Good-bye, Brother

by Steve Wilson ’85

There are some things about my time at Centre I never told my parents.

Oh, sure, I was quick to tell them how tough my classes were. They knew about the hours that I spent writing papers and preparing for blue-book tests. I let them know, too, which professors I loved, and which ones I loathed.

I also fed them bits and pieces—on a strictly “need to know” basis—about my social life, a four year melodrama that was played out on the stage of a small-school campus where everybody knew everybody’s business. Centre’s rumor-mill in the early 1980s was, in fact, as juicy as any episode of Dallas or Dynasty.

What I didn’t share with my folks—what I couldn’t share with them—was my real Centre experience. I never told them that, when I was away from home and they weren’t looking, I had been adopted by another family . . . my Centre family.

As we “family” members know, the real Centre experience is that unique, magical, nearly impossible-to-define time spent in Danville, cultivating a love for a special place and people. For me, an only child, it became extra special. Suddenly, after 18 years of living a relatively quiet, it’s-all about-me life, I had to share the spotlight—and dining room table—with a new family of 800 or so brothers and sisters. Thank God for people like Kevin Brown ’85.

I met Kevin during our first day at Centre. I wish I had known then what a monumental moment it was in my life and my Centre experience. Kevin was a tall, skinny, outgoing guy from Georgetown, Ky., who loved to sing, play tennis, and laugh. We were opposites in many ways, but it wasn’t long before we were chums, despite our differences.

It also wasn’t long before Kevin began dating Holly Winn ’85, another member of our freshman class. Holly and Kevin were inseparable, and married soon after we graduated. Like a favorite family member, I had the honor of being a groomsman at their wedding.

Kevin and I pledged Sigma Chi as freshmen. We lived as brothers for four years, ultimately as roommates. He tolerated my need for extra closet space and I endured his smelly feet. We had a blast!

It was Kevin who taught me to play Frisbee golf using the campus lampposts early one morning. Kevin knew I was Frisbee-challenged, and he made it his mission to teach me the fine points of being a champion Frisbee golfer.

The teaching skills Kevin practiced on me served him well in later years, when he became a well respected and much-loved teacher of high school chemistry.

Late-night and early-morning trips around the Frisbee golf course with Kevin are some of the tiny threads that are woven into my blanket of Centre memories. I wrapped myself tightly in that blanket earlier this year when I received the devastating news that 39-year-old Kevin and his beautiful eight year-old daughter, Elizabeth, had died in an accident during a family vacation. Kevin and Elizabeth were important members of my Centre family, and they will be missed immeasurably.

We take so much for granted, especially when it comes to our family. Losing Kevin and Elizabeth reminded me how much Centre has given me, and how much it continues to give in so many ways.

I think I’m finally ready to confess to my folks about my real Centre experience. Or, just maybe, they already know.

An English major at Centre, Steve Wilson ’85 is founder and president of Louisville-based WOW! Communications, a public and corporate relations firm. His e-mail address is railsplitterfarm@aol.com. He wrote this reflection following the accidental deaths in April 2003 of Kevin Brown ’85 and Kevin’s daughter, Elizabeth, while on a family vacation in Hawaii.

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